Out on a Limb
by writ10word
Summary: Phantom Limb reunites with an old friend at Wide Wale's party. This foul-mouth femme fatale has no time for Phantom Limb's exasperating bullshit. Takes place during/after Season 7 Episode 3 (Faking Miracles). A slow burn fic with Phantom Limb / OC. Phantom Limb is ultimate problematic fav. Abandoned
1. Chapter 1

Ronnie pushed her graying hair out of her face and looked through the windows. Despite the late hour, the hustle and bustle of the city had not died down. Looking out at the skyline one might be deceived by the bright lights and the sound. But Ronnie knew that the city was dark and dirty. She laughed darkly and downed the rest of her whiskey. That's when she heard a familiar voice.

"Oh this," he said, "Lost it in the war."

Ronnie spun around on her barstool and, sure enough, Hamilton stood there. He was in a ridiculous lavender suit and stuck out like a sore thumb. Ronnie thought about it… sore thumbs didn't really stick out all that much. They only stuck out a little. If at all. Ronnie brought the empty glass to her lips, then realized her mistake. She put the glass down sheepishly and got to her feet.

"Guess I better say hello." she said to the empty bar.

She stretched and slipped her heels back on.

"Hamilton," she called out.

Hamilton, who had just walked away from some of Chester's bewildered business partners, twisted to look at her. His expression softened.

"Veronica." He said with mock distain, "How unpleasant to see you."

"And you as well," she said closing the gap between them. "I've heard you were down on your luck, but I never thought you'd sink so low as to wear something," she gestured to his suit, "from a second-hand store."

"You're one to talk." He said snidely remarking her dress, "Did you dig through the discount bin at Walmart for that."

Ronnie laughed. "If things are hard I know a place where'd you'd make money hand over fist."

"Oh really," Hamilton said.

Ronnie nodded. "There's this amputee strip club right off of Broadway. But, then again, you knew that... Saw you on center stage last week."

Hamilton looked aghast.

Ronnie thought about it a moment. "Actually... I think that was Gertrude. You two just have the same mustache."

"Speaking of which…" he said circling her like a bird of prey, "I didn't want have to say something but-" He leaned in, "One of us has to shave."

Ronnie laughed good-naturedly and raised a hand to her upper lip, "I don't know Hamilton it took me fifty-six years to cultivate this bad boy. I'm not ready to let go."

Hamilton chuckled. "It is truly good to see you Veronica."

"Do you really think my dress is Walmart quality?" she asked.

Ronnie fanned out her dress. It was a black, sleeveless, floor-length sheath dress with slits down either side, and a high neck. The slits showed off one toned leg and one metallic one. The dress could have been plain on another woman, but on her it was classy.

Hamilton looked her up and down. "Your dress is stunning; however, you could make a trash bag look elegant."

Instead of saying 'thank you' she just said, "I know."

While Ronnie and Hamilton conversed next to an ornate statue of Poseidon trouble was brewing over at the bar. Shelia, who had just finished her second drink of the night, was being bothered by a Dean Martin wannabe. Trying to escape the man's cheesy pickup lines- Shelia made her way over to the balcony. Naturally, he followed. Even though Hamilton was enjoying catching up with an old friend; he couldn't help but have his interest piqued.

"A friend?" Ronnie stated when Hamilton took too long to respond.

"Excuse me?" Hamilton said.

"That young woman." Ronnie said lazily gesturing to the balcony. "Do you know her?"

Hamilton nodded, "We are…" Hamilton thought about it and finally decided on, "colleagues."

Ronnie nodded absently. "Looks like she been cornered by Toby."

"You know him?" asked Hamilton.

"I've lived in New York for quite some time. I'm familiar with Chester's..." she paused, "colleagues."

"Chester?"

Ronnie sighed, "Chester Ong? You'd probably know him as Wide Wale." She folded her arms.

"How would you know him?" Hamilton asked.

"I know you," Ronnie said annoyed. "It has to do with work. I'm a playwright and a good one. Chester makes it a habit of befriending talented people."

Hamilton raised his two gloved hands in defense and his cuff lifted to reveal nothing there. Ronnie, bewildered, seized his arm and brought it to eye level.

"Ah yes," said Hamilton sheepishly, "The product of an experiment gone wrong."

"Wrong," Ronnie said, still in shock, "Your arms are invisible!"

Hamilton shushed her. "Surely," he said through clenched teeth, "You've seen stranger if you know Wide Wale."

"Stranger," Ronnie said, "Maybe… but…"

Hamilton drew his arm away and adjusted his sleeves.

"How?"

Before Hamilton could respond, Dr. Z walked up and gave him a wicked smile. The old man had a gleam in his eye that spelt trouble.

"Hello, young woman, and who might you be?" Dr. Z asked raising an eyebrow.

"Dr. Z this is an old friend of mine, Veronica Addington." Hamilton responded as he fiddled with his cufflinks.

"Just friends?" asked Dr. Z. "The two of you have been flirting all night."

Without skipping a beat, Ronnie said, "Yes but had I known that there even more pleasant company…"

Dr. Z blushed and was speechless. After a couple of moments, he finally managed to let out a strangled, "I'm married."

Ronnie threw back her head and laughed.

The three of them discussed topics primarily surrounding post-impressionism art and the Romantic Period of English literature. However, the conversation began to veer into more personal territory.

"Yes," Dr. Z said, a sadness in his voice, "Johnny keeps showing up on my door all tweaked out. I'm worried about how it's affecting Ro-Boy and my wife..."

Wide Wale lumbered over to the group. "Am I interrupting?" interrupted Wide Wale.

"Not at all, Chester," Ronnie said sweetly.

"I'm afraid that I need to borrow my work associates from you." said Wide Wale.

"I was just leaving away," responded Ronnie.

She nodded to the two of them as they turned to leave. Before Hamilton could get too far away Ronnie caught him by the arm. He lingered a moment and she pressed a business card into his hand. He briefly glanced over it before putting it into his breast pocket.

"Keep in touch," She said softly.

Hamilton nodded and turned around.

Dr. Z leaned in and cheerfully said, "She's nice."

 _Hey guys! I just wanted to note that the reason that Veronica called Copy-Cat "Toby" is because there is no cannon civilian name for Copy-Cat so I used the voice actor's first name as a placeholder. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed this fic! Critiques are welcome! If you notice a continuity error or a grammar mistake be sure to let me know! I'm also going to be posting this up on A03 when I_ _ **finally**_ _get my invitation. I'm pretty sure that I characterized everyone pretty well! I'll post again next week!_


	2. Chapter 2

The vaulted ceilings, rich wood floors, and ornate sconces of Fantamos Manor made Ronnie feel even smaller and out of place than she already was. She had left the party outside to find a suitable place to adjust the straps of her wooden prosthetic leg. And, of course, to hide from the other kids. As Ronnie passed one of the various suits of armor that lined the hall she tightened her jacket around herself. She could feel it's cold metal eyes boring into the back of her head. Ronnie knew if a ghost, or suit of armor, jumped out at her she wouldn't be able to out run them with her mismatched legs. The hallway was so dimly lit and gloomy that the shadows seemed to move. As Ronnie came to the end of the hall there were an assortment of doors. Ronnie approached the first one and knocked lightly. She knocked again, harder. When she didn't get a response she tried the knob, but it was locked. She moved on to the second door and repeated the process to no avail. She tried door after door but none of them seemed to be unlocked or occupied.

There were just two doors left and Ronnie was starting to panic. She approached the first one and hesitated. There seemed to be sound coming from inside the room. Terrified she gingerly pressed her ear to the door and her blood ran cold when she heard the moaning of ghost. She slowly backed away from the door but bumped into someone. She turned around at the sound of creaking metal and there was a suit of armor glaring down at her. She yelped and sprinted to the last door in the hallway. She tried the nob and it opened with ease. She threw the door open, ran inside, then slammed the door.

She was hyperventilating as she let herself slide down the length of the door. She buried her face in her tiny hands and desperately tried not to cry. That's when she heard a man clear his throat. Instinctively, she screamed.

"Well," said the young man sitting in a wheelchair dryly, "I've never quite had that kind of response before."

"I'm s-s-s-sorry." Ronnie said, her voice small and filled with emotion. Her eyes glistened and, before she could stop herself, tears streamed down her ruddy cheeks. The young man shifted impatiently.

"Your apology is accepted." He said curtly. "Now, would you _kindly_ stop crying. It is quite grating, and I can't cover my ears.

Ronnie looked up at him. His body was that of a grown man, but his arms and legs were small and shriveled. A wave of pity and confusion washed over her, and she began sobbing even louder.

"Come on," he said impatiently, "Surely you have something better to do? Can't you go outside and play with the other brats."

She wiped at her face with the sleeve of her jacket; snot and tears alike were smeared all over her face in the process. "They won't play with me," she whined.

"And why is that?" he asked haughtily.

She looked up at him pathetically and lifted the skirt of her frilly dress to reveal the wooden leg. "They say I'm too slow," she said.

"Ahh..." the young man said, his hard expression softening. He cleared his throat and shifted uneasily. "Well… I suppose if you'd like… you could…" He began trailing off.

"Stay here?" she said lighting up.

"I suppose…" he said, regret in his voice. "Well," he said adjusting his posture, "If we are to be occupying the same space there may as well be introductions. My name is Hamilton Gaius Fantamos, the sole heir to the notorious Fantamos family… and you are?"

"My name is Ronnie," the girl responded cheerfully, "Nice to meet you!" She walked over to sit on the bed. She sat down with a plop then looked back to Hamilton.

"Hey, wait," she said apprehensively, "why are you here? The party is outside."

"This is my room," Hamilton responded, his nose in the air, "I don't have much patience for parties."

Ronnie looked past Hamilton and pointed to the window, "It looks like you were watching the party."

"I like the idea of parties," he responded defensively, "but I don't like attending."

Ronnie made a face. "Is it cause of your arms and legs?" she asked as she began swinging her leg back and forth.

"Yes." He said, impatience oozing from every fiber of his being.

"Were you born like that?" Ronnie asked.

"Yes," he said through his clenched teeth.

"Okay…" Ronnie said nonchalantly, "What do you do in here for fun?"

"Read. Mostly." He responded. There were stacks of color coded books everywhere and a large bookcase ran the length of the furthest wall.

"Oh." Ronnie said. "Those books look… good."

"They are." He responded briskly.

"Want a cookie?" Ronnie asked.

"What?" Hamilton responded, taken aback.

Ronnie pulled a cookie out of her jacket pocket and presented it to Hamilton proudly. "They are very good!" Ronnie said beaming, "They are from the party. I wanted one, so I hid it in my pocket because mother won't let me eat them."

Hamilton shook his head and said, "I am fine. Thank you."

Hamilton's stomach growled, and Ronnie gave him a suspicious look.

"I'm not hungry," Hamilton said defiantly, "When your intestines process food, your abdomen may grumble or growl. My food is simply being digested."

It growled again, and Ronnie raised one eyebrow comedically.

"You sure." Ronnie said and then she pretended like she was going to take a big bite.

"Fine!" Hamilton responded exasperatedly, "I'll take some cookie!"

Ronnie hopped of the bed victoriously and skipped, as best as she could, over to the desk in front of Hamilton. She placed it in front of him then watched him expectantly.

"Well?" She asked sweetly.

"Well what?" Hamilton replied sourly, "What am I supposed to do with that?"

Ronnie's face scrunched up in confusion. "Eat it?" she asked.

"Look at my ARMS." Hamilton yelled. "For goodness sake, child! I can't reach THAT!"

"You don't have to yell," Ronnie said with a pout. She then picked up the cookie and held it mere centimeters from his face.

"I'll eat it later." Hamilton said looking away from the cookie. "I'll have a servant help me."

His stomach, determined to make a fool of him, grumbled again.

"Come on," Ronnie said patiently, "I'll hold it for you."

Hamilton sighed and warily nibbled at the cookie.

"It's good." He said petulantly, "Mmmmm. That's enough. Thank you."

Ronnie smiled gleefully and pulled the cookie away. "So," she said eyeing the rest, "Are you going to save the rest for later… or?"

Hamilton sighed and bowed his head. "You can have it."

Ronnie munched on the cookie with much delight. When she was done the wiped the crumbs off of her hands and clothes, but left a ring of crumbs around her mouth.

Hamilton chuckled despite his crabby demeanor. "Wipe just around your mouth." He said good-naturedly.

"Here?" she said and wiped her whole face vigorously.

He chortled and said, "Yes. You've got it."

Ronnie looked pleased then walked over to the bookshelf. She studied the shelves for a moment then looked back at Hamilton. "Want to read?" she said.

"I've already finished this book," he replied nodding to the book on the desk in front of him.

"Oh," Ronnie replied dejectedly. "Want to read a different book?" she said hopefully.

Hamilton was starting to get irritated again. "Yes," he said the ire rising in his voice exponentially, "but, again, I can't really just grab whatever it is that I want."

Ronnie's face fell and she trudged back to the bed. Before she jumped up onto the it she looked at Hamilton. Then at the book. Then back at Hamilton. She looked absolutely confounded.

"How did you read the book?" she said mystified.

He nodded knowingly then looked up at the ceiling. At first this only confused Ronnie more, but when she followed his gaze she let out an audible gasp. Mounted on the ceiling above Hamilton's desk was a complicated motorized contraption. There were pulleys and gears and a long thin wooden dowel equipped with a leather tongue that hung just ¼ of an inch above the book. Ronnie gawked at it.

"How does it work?" Ronnie asked.

Hamilton was so full of self-importance he completely forgot that ten-year-old's weren't particularly hard to impress. He positively beamed. "Grab a book," he said haughtily, "and I'll show you."

Ronnie did what she was told and grabbed a worn copy of Moby Dick, it had a fluorescent orange sticker on the spine.

Hamilton looked at the book in her hands. "Moby Dick?" he said, "You have an unpredictably good eye for literature."

Ronnie bashfully placed the book on the desk.

"Excellent," he hummed, "You see how there's a number three on the spine of the book?"

Ronnie looked at the florescent sticker and nodded.

"You are going to enter that number, three, into the keypad… just there on the wall."

Ronnie walked over entered three into the keypad as Hamilton asked, and the engine sputtered to life causing the dowel to rotate over the book. The leather tongue gently pushed the cover of the book open then after 45 seconds it turned the page.

"That's way too fast." Ronnie said as she watched the machine work. "There's no way you can read that quickly."

Hamilton straightened his postured and said, "I have an incredibly high reading comprehension." He looked out of the window wistfully, "No one here appreciates my intellectual genius."

Ronnie looked from the machine to Hamilton.

"You're an inventor," she exclaimed, "Just like Dr. Venture!"

Hamilton turned back to Ronnie and beamed with pride. "Actually," Hamilton said arrogantly, "I'm in the boy's brigade. I see Dr. Venture all of the time!"

"Really?" Ronnie asked excitedly.

"He's actually supposed to come to the party," Hamilton said returning his gaze back to the window. "I guess he is just… fashionably late."

Ronnie nodded. "Sometimes, Dr. Venture comes over to my house," Ronnie said cheekily. Her face fell a little. "Mother always makes me go to my room when he comes over though," she complained.

Hamilton coughed and looked away uncomfortably.

For the next little while Hamilton spoke at Ronnie. Despite the fact that she was at a complete lost as to what he was talking about, she was glad for the company and attention. Then there was a knock at the door. Ronnie and Hamilton looked at each other briefly considering how to respond.

"Yes?" Hamilton asked.

Dr. Jonas Venture cracked the door open and peaked in. "Hamilton," he said moving further into view, "I just came by to wish you a happy birthday."

"Dr. Venture." Hamilton said excitedly, "I'm so glad that you came!" Youthful joy spread across his face.

"I wouldn't forget about you Hambone!" Jonas laughed and moved further into the room.

Ronnie didn't want to be rude, so she quietly watched the scene unfold with pure delight.

"Looks like you found a friend," Jonas said referring to Ronnie.

Ronnie looked at Hamilton, waiting for his silent approval. He nodded with a smile on his face.

"Hey Mr. Dr. Venture! I'm Ronnie. Is it true that Hamilton is in the Boy's Brigade and that you seehim all the time?" she said in one breath.

"Ronnie?" Jonas said looking down at the little girl, "Veronica Addington? Cecilia's girl?"

Ronnie nodded fervently.

"Aren't you troublesome one?" Dr. Venture said with a chuckle, "Your mother has been looking for you everywhere. Apparently, Eliza is in a huffy mood and refuses to calm down until she sees you."

Ronnie got a sour look on her face. "I don't want to go back to the party. I want to stay and hang out with Hamilton."

"Don't you think you are a little too young to hang out with Hamilton?" Jonas said derisively, "You should head on back to the party."

Ronnie defeated walked over to the door. "Happy Birthday, Hamilton," she said gloomily.

Hamilton tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't. So he just nodded stiffly.

 _Hey guys! Sorry that was a ridiculously long chapter. Hopefully, you liked it. I was really trying to characterize Phantom Limb as the edge lord he really is so I thought "Rube Goldberg Machine"! For those of you who don't know- a Rube Goldberg machine is an over-complicated machine that accomplishes very little. In this case, an automated page-turner. If you have extra time (which I'm assuming you do seeing how you are reading fanfiction) you should go to youtube and watch some great Rube Goldberg Machines._

 _Please review! It makes this entire process even more worthwhile. Speaking of which, there was this awesome comment left by a guestMeggie on my last chapter. Thank you for your sweet and helpful comment! You are the best!_

 _I should be posting another chapter fairly soon- probably within the week!_


	3. Chapter 3

Ronnie was surprised that Hamilton had wanted to meet up for coffee so shortly after their run in at Chester's party. However, she did her best not to be smug. They were, after all, just meeting for coffee. The two of them hadn't seen one another in person in a fairly long time and the last time that they were in contact… well… it hadn't gone so well. But this was different.

Ronnie hummed a little tune as she walked away from her silver Porsche 959 and towards the petite French themed café. It was a nice little medium range place with fairly pleasant reviews, however, the idea of sitting with a backdrop of the Eiffel tower and paying more for cheap coffee because of the French styled text on the menu, did leave a bad taste in her mouth. When she was at her lowest she would have definitely made fun of the people who came here.

Ronnie scanned the open air section of the café and when she didn't see Hamilton she figured he was inside. It was a shame because it was a lovely day out and the fresh air would have been a pleasant addition. Also, there wasn't any cheesy, stereotypical "French Café" music out here. She shook her head and moved past the decorative metal patio furniture and opened the door.

"Hello, Madame." The host said with a _totally not fake_ French accent. "Where you interested in sitting at a table and having breakfast or getting coffee to go?"

Ronnie, who was trying not to laugh, said, "Oh, I'm meeting someone. Hamilton?"

Faux Frenchie's eyes quickly darted to the table all the way in the left corner of the café then back to Ronnie. For a moment he just observed at her with a look in his eyes that said, "Are you sure?" When Ronnie stared back absently, he relented and sourly walked her over to the table nose in the air and a menu in his hands.

"Here we are," the host said gesturing to the seat across from Hamilton.

Hamilton was… not necessarily dressed properly. He wore a long, tan trench coat that was fully buttoned, a beret, and white gloves. Now that Ronnie sat across from him, she understood Frenchie's sentiment.

"Veronica, my dear, so glad you could make it." Hamilton said in an overly gracious way.

Frenchie excused himself with a "hrumpf" and went back to the hostess' stand.

Ronnie removed her, completely unnecessary, scarf and eyed him suspiciously. "Hey Hamilton…uh..." Ronnie started cautiously. "What's with," she gestured to his outfit, "this getup?"

Hamilton looked offended and folded his arms. "What ever do you mean?"

Ronnie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I just figured that you'd wear… 'civilian' clothes. You kind of…" She trailed off not wanting to finish that particular sentiment.

"Well," Hamilton said dramatically, "If my company isn't wanted." He stood to leave his trench coat flaring up behind him.

"No! No…" Ronnie said hastily, "It's not that. I was just… taken aback."

Hamilton observed Ronnie for a moment then warily sat down.

"Well…" Ronnie said trying to change the subject, "That guy was a bit much." She tilted her head in the direction of the host who was pretending not to listen to their conversation.

"I suppose…" Hamilton said noncommittally.

Ronnie laughed. "Seriously," she said, "Did you get a load of Faux Frenchie's super _not fake_ accent?" She giggled. "It was absolutely ridiculous!"

Hamilton was obviously not amused. However, Ronnie, oblivious to that fact, continued with her tangent.

"Furthermore," Ronnie said passionately, "I've never once understood the Romanization of France and French Culture. France is a gloomy, nasty, wet place that is filled to the brim with rats and _French people_. In fact, most people who GO to France come back with depression as a side effect of their Paris Syndrome! Everyone is like 'ooh France is so cool' but when they get back from their vacation their all like 'oh France was nothing like it is in the movies.' I'm like 'duh France sucks.' OH, and the French are the worst! Have you ever tried to order a drink that isn't lukewarm in France?" She started speaking in her most over-the-top fake French accent, "Oh you don't want shitty hot soda? Well… TOO BAD! Entitled American pig-dog HOW DARE you want ice in your drink! You may have one cube of ice and NO MORE!" She cleared her throat and was thankful that the café was mostly empty, "I mean," Ronnie said finally registering the anger in Hamilton's face, "No offense to France or the French. It's just, you know, a place. It's just like every other place. It has shitty qualities and good qualities. It is just way over romanticized…"

Hamilton sniffed at the air and Ronnie laughed nervously. She put her hand on the back of her neck.

"I apologize if…" Ronnie said rubbing her neck, "I offended you. I don't think that people who like France are inherently stupid. I just… went off on a tangent."

Hamilton considered her words for a moment, cleared his throat, and said, "I accept your apology."

"However," Ronnie interjected, "I will not apologize for my opinion… I just wanted to make that clear."

Hamilton stiffened but said, "Very well."

Ronnie drummed her fingers absentmindedly on the table.

"So," Ronnie said, "What happened with the whole… invisible arms and legs thing."

Faux Frenchie walked over and looked down his nose at the pair of them. "Well," he said snootily, "It appears that your waitress has called in sick." He pulled out a pad of paper and in his most exasperated voice he could manage said, "What would you like to order?"

Hamilton looked at Ronnie but she said, "Uh, you first."

"I'll have a decaf soy Latte with an extra shot of expresso and cream," Hamilton said squinting at the menu. When he was finished he graciously handed over his menu.

Ronnie looked at him incredulously. He ordered a _soy_ Latte with _cream_?

Ronnie shook her head, "Just a Double Expresso- no cream."

Frenchie sighed discontent, took Ronnie's menu, and left to put their order in.

As soon as Frenchie was out of earshot, Ronnie turned to Hamilton. " _Soy_ and _cream?_ " she said incredulously. "Okay, I admit maybe I was being a bit harsh and over the top with the whole 'French' thing but this… this is weird."

"Look," Hamilton said through clenched teeth, "I'll order my coffee _my way_ and you can order yours _your way_."

"Fine!" Ronnie said.

"Fine." Hamilton said.

Ronnie laughed. "This is going great," she said.

Hamilton was outraged.

"Wait," Ronnie said defensively, "That wasn't a passive aggressive remark." She took a deep breath. "Can we just start over?"

Hamilton didn't seem overly eager, but he relented. "I suppose," he said.

"How have you been Hamilton?" Ronnie said leaning into her hand.

"Better, recently," Hamilton said as he lifted his drink to his face. He sniffed at it then took a small sip and the foam covered his thin moustache. His face twisted in disgust.

Ronnie thought about how it would be so easy to tease him but, instead, she shook her head and smiled.

 _Hey guys! I don't hate France or anything- I swear! I hope you guys like this chapter. I'll have another one up shortly!_


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